Unsteady
by Darveymylove
Summary: Donna and Harvey struggle to cope with the possibility of losing each other and being alone at Christmas time.


Breathe in, her eyes shutter closed.

 _"That doesn't mean I want more!"_

Breathe out, the look of pure hatred on his face seared in her memory, every time she shuts her eyes.

 _"Well for the record, neither do I!"_

Breathe in, her lips press in a thin line, as though trying to trap the lie, somehow change the past, stop it from falling from her lips in the heat of her rage.

 _"I didn't feel anything when I kissed you."_

Breathe out, she clutches the arms of her desk chair a little tighter, trying to ground herself in the present moment, wishing she could erase the words that formed on her tongue, the crease of his face as he turned his back, the feeling of her heart splintering before his unknowing eyes.

Breathe in.

 _"As far as I'm concerned, your judgement sucks."_

Breathe out.

She cast her eyes to the ceiling, a trick she'd learned to prevent the tears which brewed from falling. She takes another few calming breaths, turning her chair slowly to face the New York night time skyline, the Christmas lights give the city a colourful glow, accented by the few lazy snow-flakes beginning to drift down from the sky, trying but failing to enjoy the view, when really all she can concentrate on is the faint reflection of herself in the glass;

There she sits, a woman broken, _alone_.

It was hard to put her finger on it, when it all started, these overwhelming rushes of emotion, usually triggered by a memory of some sort, that would flash across her mind unexpectedly. However, when these moments of distress began to have an effect on her work, finding herself taking refuge in the ladies room for a few quiet moments to settle her mind, she realised she needed help. She had, reluctantly, decided to visit Dr. Lipshitz, in the hope that he would write it off as stress, a result of her missing Mike and Rachel, maybe even prescribe her something to help with the anxiety, or at least to help her sleep. But unfortunately, he had seen right through her.

Donna had never liked therapists. Their ability to see past the façade frightened her. That was her thing, and when someone matched that talent, it put her at a disadvantage, making her extremely uneasy.

Dr. Lipshitz had requested she visit again, once a week until they "got to the root of the problem." Giving her small breathing exercises to practise in the face of anxiety, but she knew it wouldn't help.

There was only one remedy to her dilemma. And he was no longer an option.

The shrill ringing of her phone caused her to jump in surprise, pulling her mind back to reality, she reached for it with a trembling hand, sliding the receiver over without thinking.

"Hello?" She croaked, clearing her throat quickly, she repeated, "Hello."

"Hey Donna, I'm downstairs, you ready to go?"

"Oh Thomas!" She glanced at the clock, a little flustered by the passing of time, "I'm so sorry I've been so busy tonight, the time just ran away from me, I just have to finish tidying away a few things, I'll be down in ten minutes."

"No problem," he replied, understanding as always, "take your time, see you in a few."

She sighed as she hung up. How could she have forgotten.

Once again her stomach clenched with a different type of anxiety. Tonight was her fifth date with Thomas. They were yet to sleep together, not for lack of wanting on his part, more so for lack of willingness on hers.

How could she explain that sleeping with him felt wrong to her, in a way it felt as though she were cheating on man who wasn't even hers. It was stupid, she really liked Thomas, their dates had been wonderful, but she couldn't bring herself to commit when her mind and heart were on someone else.

But tonight… tonight she would have to face it, if she wanted this relationship to last, and she did, she would have to act now. Harvey Specter would not ruin another one of her chances at happiness. She simply could not allow it.

Her hand involuntarily reached for the half full tumbler of scotch at the corner of the desk, downing it in far too swift a motion, she winced as the amber substance scorched its way down her throat, leaving behind a dull buzz in her brain that numbed the reality of what was about to unfold.

She had to say goodbye tonight.

It was the last day before the firm closed for the holidays, only a few short days away from Christmas. Although they were only parting ways until the New Year, the gesture somehow felt symbolic, for when she left tonight, she was moving towards a new future. One without Harvey Specter.

Nothing had ever frightened her as much.

She tidied the few files that lay scattered across her desk, leaving them in a neat bundle, ready for when she returned after the break, and gathering her purse and phone, she set off to conquer the task at hand.

He seemed to be deep in thought as she approached his office, quietly stepping toward the glass, careful not to disturb him as she drank him in. His suit jacket discarded at his desk, his grey satin tie loosened, the way his shirt strained and wrinkled around his biceps and back as he leaned forward on the leather couch, how his hair sat slightly out of place, she ignored the tingled in her hand which itched to smooth it back in place. He was seemingly studying a mass of documents, but from the distant, glassy look in his eyes, she was certain his mind was far from here.

She glanced at the lavish Christmas tree that sat in the corner of the room, and a small smile graced her face at the memory of how it came to be.

 _"I have a surprise for you." She quipped as he exited the elevator on the fiftieth floor._

 _He smiled, the tiredness and tension melting from his body as he realised with a slight jolt of the stomach, that she had been waiting for him. He loved it when she did that. The late hour of the night made it all the more significant._

 _"It better involve alcohol," he replied, striding by her side as they made their way back to his office, revelling in the fleeting moments when their shoulders brushed, "because I am absolutely spent."_

 _"Do you even know who you're talking to?" She teased, raising an eyebrow as she shot him a mischievous grin, "doesn't it always involve alcohol with us?"_

 _"I happen to remember one particular time where alcohol was not necessary." He began, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground, toeing the line._

 _"And when would that be?" she plays the fool._

 _"I'll give you a hint…" they stopped, turning to face one another just outside his office, "it wasn't the god-awful dinner party."_

 _Realisation washed over her face, head tilting to the side, eyes accusing, like a school teacher, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks as she smiled coyly._

 _"Harvey."_

 _"Donna." He mimicked, quirking an eyebrow._

 _For a brief moment, they seemed to forget themselves, each lost in the depths of the others eyes, as if they were watching the memory of that night on loop from the other's perspective. Enchanted by the fairy-tale of that venture, so long ago now, yet still so fresh in their minds._

 _The moment was over to fast as Donna averted her eyes, "Anyway," she whispered, gathering her thoughts and swallowing the past, "back to your surprise… follow me."_

 _He couldn't help how his eyes lingered on her figure as she stepped into his office, momentarily distracted by the curve of her spine, how her hips swayed as she strode, before he followed her. His gaze landed on a cardboard box, filled to the brim with tangles of lights and baubles, then he spotted the lavish tree, which roughly matched his height, propped up against the wall._

 _"What's all this?" He asked, perplexed._

 _"This is your surprise!" She beamed, gesturing at the array of decorations, he couldn't help but smirk at how excited she was, it was so… cute._

 _"Care to explain yourself?" He laughed._

 _"Well, Scrooge, your office is so bare, I thought it could use a little Christmas spirit." She began._

 _"And you want me to decorate.."_

 _"Well I thought.. we could maybe.. do it together?"_

 _He was struck by a warm sensation that bloomed in his chest and spread through his veins, it was unexplainable, yet somehow made perfect sense._

 _"I'd like that." He whispered, smiling at how her eyes lit up._

 _"Good," she tossed him a bauble, which he caught without fail, "because you don't have much of a choice Mr. Grinch."_

 _"That's Mister Specter to you." He winked._

 _Little over an hour later, they sat on the couch, his jacket and tie long gone, sleeves rolled up, her shoes discarded in the corner, her hair pulled back in a high pony, feet curled up beneath her as they sipped at their scotch, the smooth jazz of his father's Christmas record humming in the background._

 _There was something oddly natural about the whole situation, how they seemed to slip so easily into a domestic rhythm when they were left alone, together. An air of intimacy tinting even the most ordinary of moments, a gravitational pull they both felt at certain times, like when their bodies had become tangled in the endless streams of glowing gold fairy lights, and the sparks that ignited as their fingertips brushed when they reached for the same bauble, or how he stood cautiously behind her as she knelt on the window ledge placing the star atop of the tree, ready to catch her should she fall. And for a moment she considered faking it, just as an excuse to feel his arms surround her once again._

 _They felt it. An undeniable force that they somehow always managed to out run, but now, it was catching up on them. Nowhere to hide anymore._

 _Donna sighed sadly, it had been particularly difficult to walk away from him that night. To go back to her empty home, sleep in a bed haunted by the ghost of that night fourteen years ago. There wasn't a single aspect of her life that didn't link back to him._

 _She hated it._

She tapped on the glass, alerting him to her presence, "Hey," she began, barely stepping over the threshold, as though she feared if she ventured any further she wouldn't be able to resist his pull, "I just came to say g-"

"Donna, hey," his eyes seemed to come to life upon seeing her. It hurt. "I was just finishing up, I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for a few Christmas drinks?"

 _Yes_. She wanted to so badly.

"I'd love to Harvey, but I have plans tonight," she hesitates, unsure how he will react, "a date actually-"

For a split second, he falters, face falling, guard down. It's in these fleeting moments that she gets a small peek at his true feelings for her, but it isn't long before the walls fly back up in place, leaving her out in the cold once more.

"Well," he continues, eyes cast down, as he shuffles the files around the table, he's trying to act casual, but she can taste the bitterness in his voice, "I guess I'll see you after the break."

"Okay." She whispers, feeling wounded, although she's not quite sure why, she turns to leave, looking back over her shoulder, "Merry Christmas Harvey."

He looks up at her words, she notices him swallow, and wonders if he's holding back tears of his own, "Merry Christmas Donna."

And just like that she's gone. He doesn't see her go, he doesn't have the strength to watch her leave, instead, he faces away, staring at his reflection in the glass that surrounds him. Alone.

He feels it growing in him, the special pain that only she seems capable of causing, his palms sweating, head spinning, the city lights before him distorted in a collage of illuminous colour.

Breathe in.

 _"That doesn't mean I want more!"_

Breathe out, feeling the regret pooling in his stomach.

 _"well for the record neither do I"_

Breathe in, his heart beats faster, his chest tight, the walls melting.

 _"I didn't feel anything when I kissed you Harvey."_

Breathe out, he can still feel the venom of her words, stinging his skin, burning.

His mind travels back to his last session with Dr. Lipshitz…

 _These panic attacks won't stop until you confront your feelings for her, you can't run from this any longer, the more you repress it the stronger it becomes._

He chokes on his breath, eyes landing on the Christmas tree they had decorated together, the way her hair shone like fire, set alight by the sparkling fairy lights that twisted and tangled around her shoulders, the sound of her laughter echoed in his mind. It was in that moment that he realised, that was how he wanted to spend all his Christmas', with her.

And it was in that very same instant, he realised he never would.

In a burst of fury and pain he reached for the tree, tearing it from its stand, he flung it across the room, colourful glass shattering in a broken rainbow along the floor of his office. He fell to the ground, collapsing against the back wall, hidden behind the sofa. Burying his face in his hands, he shook with powerful sobs, images of Donna haunting his mind, fuelling his sorrow.

He couldn't see how he would ever be right again.

Donna shivered against the icy wind that sliced her bare skin, her coat, not nearly warm enough for braving the snow fall of New York. She wriggled her toes, numb in her damp shoes, Louboutin's were in no way suitable for the slushy condition of the street. The cab had dropped them just down the block from her apartment, Thomas offering that they could walk the rest of the way, all but inviting himself up to her room, not that she protested, she wanted this, didn't she? Maybe the problem was, she wanted this, but she didn't want it with him.

She shook the thought from her head, focusing on looking forward to the evening ahead, the night they would spend together. But all the while, at the back of her mind, she couldn't help but think, how Harvey would have given her his jacket, maybe even carried her through the snow, salvaging the heels he'd bought for her, keeping her warm, wrapped tightly against his own body.

"What are you smiling at?" Thomas asked, linking his arm in hers as they climbed the steps to the front door of her building.

"Oh," she blinked the picture from her mind, "just how much I love –" she hesitated, "Christmas."

He nodded in agreement, following her inside as she unlocked the door, "I couldn't think of a better way to spend the run up to Christmas than with you."

"Thomas," she breathed, smiling at him in the mirror of the elevator, knowing she couldn't truthfully return the sentiment, "that's so sweet."

The journey up to her apartment unfolds in silence, Thomas placing a hand on the small of her back as she unlocks the door, guiding her inside, it feels possessive, and she's not quite sure she likes it.

"Wine?" she asks, turning to face him as they crowd into the small foyer of her home, enveloped in darkness as the door closes behind him.

She notices him inching closer, and takes a slight step back, her torso meeting the cold panel of the door, "maybe later." He whispers, his hand coming to rest at her waist, gently urging her towards him.

Their noses brush, and she tilts her chin upwards, to meet his movements, then suddenly, his lips are on hers, pressing her back against the doorframe, she strains on the tips of her toes, his height making the situation a little more difficult.

She focuses on the feeling of his body against hers, the patterns his hands follow, the way his mouth slants over hers, barely giving her a moment to breathe.

It all feels hauntingly familiar, a sense of impromptu déjà vu washing over her as he begins leading her towards the bedroom. Her eyes shutter closed as he runs his fingers through her hair, tilting her head back at the sensation. She can't shake the feeling that she's been here before.

Her legs hit the back of the bed, falling backwards onto the silk sheets below her.

And suddenly she's fourteen years younger, allowing herself to delve into this forbidden love, with the man who consumed her thoughts from the first second she saw him, the flicker of fire that sparked when their hands first touched in a lingering handshake was once again reignited. She felt alive, giving herself completely to the moment, to the man whose lips caressed her skin, fingers pulling at the material of her dress.

 _Harvey_.

Her eyes fluttered open for just a second, and what she saw turned her body to stone. She had allowed her imagination to wander, travelling back to all those years ago when the she and Harvey had crossed the line, following almost exactly the same routine as she had just experienced with Thomas.

This wasn't right, she couldn't do this.

It felt as though she had been plunged into the depths of icy cold water, drowning, every kiss felt like an attack on her skin, every touch seemed to pierce her soul.

"Wait-" she gasped, shifting slightly, but he didn't seem to hear, his movements didn't cease, with every passing moment her shame grew, "I just – stop –" she croaked quietly.

Her complaints fell on deaf ears, Thomas seemed just as caught up in the moment as she had been mere minutes ago. But her panic was growing to a peak as her chest constricted.

"Thomas, Stop!" she cried, finally finding her voice.

He froze, eyes cast up towards hers, his face creased with worry when he noticed her distress, "Donna- I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he moved from his position over her, helping her sit up as he searched her face for answers.

"No- I" she hung her head ashamedly, taking deep breaths, "it's not your fault, I just can't do this." She wiped a tear from the side of her face, head still bowed, embarrassed to meet his gaze.

"That's ok," he replied, placing a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, unsure how he should react, "do you want to talk about it or..?"

"Not really." She felt guilty, he was being so considerate, he was a good man, how could she explain to him that even though, in all aspects he was perfect for her, it just didn't feel right.

"Why are you crying?" he inquired, his eyes full of concern.

"I- I don't know." She sniffled, "I'm sorry Thomas, I just need to be alone right now."

He nods, but she can feel the disappointment radiating from his skin, still not daring to look in his direction. She scoots away from his touch, sitting at the opposite end of the bed, clutching at the hems of her dress so tightly that it hurts. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots him near the door, "Are you sure you're okay?" he tries.

Finally, she lifts her head, meeting his gaze with a weak smile, "I will be."

"Goodbye Donna."

"Bye Thomas."

And then the door is closing behind him, leaving her, alone yet again, in the darkness.

A dry laugh escaped her throat, drowned out by the sobs that bubbled up from deep down in her chest. She had just ruined her last chance at happiness, and for what? A fantasy. For a man who will never give her what she truly craves, who will never hold her the way she longs to be held, who will never open his heart to her. Yet some-how she still wants him, it hurts how much she needs him. So here she is, doomed to a life of loving someone, who can never really be hers.

It's hard to tell how much time has slipped away before she's rising from her perch on the bed, finally calm, her eyes swollen, face flush red, hair dishevelled. She felt hollow as she drifted from the bedroom through to the kitchen, her body moving of its own accord, her mind too tired to protest. She pulls open to the kitchen drawer, reaching inside, her fingers caressing the shining silver item, abandoned in its place for far too long, she lifts it to her chest, hugging it close to her body, as if the can-opener were a direct connection, not only to Harvey, but to the times they'd spent together, the old times, the good times.

Donna feels a hopeless longing to return to those times, their early days at the firm, back and forth banter from her desk and his office. When late night drinks, shopping trips and surprise breakfast dates were part of the norm, part of their weekly routine.

How her heart aches for the old them.

Before she really knows what she's doing, her feet are carrying her to the door, pulling her coat on and tucking the can-opener into her pocket, she ventures out into the snowy night, still not quite sure what it is that she's looking for.

XXX

Harvey braces himself against the wall as the final waves of a panic attack wash over him. In all his years, he can't remember when an attack lasted this long. He had been laying on the ground, slumped against the far wall, practically since the moment she'd left, unable to move, breathe, or think. Consumed only by the pain of losing her, a long-harboured fear which at last had been realised.

He doesn't know how to live in a world where Donna isn't his, in some shape or form. He can't fathom a life without her there to support him and guide him. Everything around him reminds him of her. The sofa, where they passed several nights, drinking, working, talking, laughing, he can almost hear the conversations of the past surrounding him in a ghostly echo, reverberating off the lonely walls of the office, lost to the passing of time. His desk, the one she used to keep for him, every time he enters his office, he finds himself hoping to see her, perched in his chair, heeled feet resting on the corner of the desk, smirking proudly, waiting for him. The records, the thousands they had listened to together, many of them were presents from her, although she never did replace the Miles Davis, and even though the scratch she had inflicted on it rendered the disc useless, he couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

And of course, the portrait, hung carefully on the wall, staring back at him, day in, day out, a constant reminder that without her, his life would still be in pieces.

Every corner of this building held a long-forgotten memory for them, almost like a childhood playground, as they grew older, the happy memories grew few and far between, slowly but surely growing apart from each other, desperately clinging to the past for comfort.

Suddenly, he perks up, in the distance, he swears he can hear the faint clicking of heels, in a rhythm familiar to him. It's as though he can sense her presence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, a light in the darkness.

He struggles to his feet, limbs still shaking, eyes still filled with tears, face pale and deathly. Trailing after the sound, in a daze like state, barely noticing the crunching of shattered glass at his feet. He wanders the halls, not entirely sure where he's headed, he feels as if he's chasing after the ghost of her, haunting the corridors as he follows blindly, answering her silent call for him.

He's sure it's all in his head, certain he's imagining things, beginning to come to terms with the fact that he's finally losing his mind. Until-

"Harvey?"

The quiet squeak catches him by surprise, awakening him from a sleepwalk, the haze lifting from his vision.

There she is. Real.

"Donna?"

She's sitting at her old desk, her face is pale, save for the pink flush of her nose and cheeks, her eyes bloodshot, bottom lip trembling, she's breathing deeply, chest rising and falling in erratic movements, her hands were clasped together in an attempt to stop the trembling, but to no avail, her shoulders shook as though she were freezing.

If he didn't know any better he'd say she wasn't far off a panic attack.

"Are you okay?" she asks, beating him to it. It always amazes him how she can be suffering and still only think of him.

"I'm more concerned about you right now." He approaches, rounding the cubicle, carefully turning her chair around to face him, as he leans back on the surface of the desk.

"I'm fine." She replies, though her voice wavers, she raises a shaking hand to his forehead, feeling it with the back of her hand, her fingers tracing the contours of his face as she lets it fall, "You look pale, and you're as cold as ice, did you have another-?"

She doesn't have to finish her sentence to know the answer, his pained eyes tell her the whole story.

He takes her hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze, "you look like you've been through the ringer yourself."

"Did something happen?" he inquires gently.

"Thomas and I broke up," he successfully hides his delight, not wanting to seem insensitive, tracing a thumb over the skin of her hand comfortingly, watching as her nose scrunches up, something she only does when she's holding back tears, "but that's not why I'm…" she hesitates, he remains silent, waiting for her to continue, "I haven't really been feeling myself lately."

"I understand."

They allow the silence to envelope them for a moment, grasping at all the words left unsaid, trying to figure out where they go from here. Wondering where this night would lead, it had the potential to either make or break them, both outcomes equally terrifying. They couldn't help but ponder the pain they had caused one another, driving each other to near the point of insanity. And for what? Fear of rejection? Uncertainty of how the other might react? Or perhaps, just plain selfishness.

"Is this what we've done to each other?" Donna breathes, so quietly she's not sure he even heard her, but she notices him tense, giving the game away, "all we do is hurt each other…"

"That's not true." He states, but she can read his tone, knowing full well he doesn't believe the words he just uttered.

"Isn't it?" she raises her voice a pitch, standing from the chair, releasing his hand as she matches his height, "do you know how much it pained me when I found out I had caused your panic attacks? That I'm your trigger. I could barely live with myself, I couldn't-"

"That's not fair and you know it," his voice rises to meet hers, "you can't blame yourself for my own problems-"

"But I do! that's the problem," she yells, stepping back, raising her arms in frustration, "I don't know how to disconnect myself from you!"

Her words resonate with him, rocking him to the core, "Well neither do I!" he answers, turning his back as he paces around the cubicle, putting distance between them, he always finds it hard to face her in a confrontation, "Do you know how much I worry about you? About how I can protect you? I'm always looking out for the next threat, and you know what my first thought is every time one comes along?"

She remains silent, shocked by his outburst, although she already knows the answer.

"It's you." He admits, his voice lower now, that timbre reserved only for her.

"We're not good for each other…" she mutters.

"You can't seriously think that, after all we've been through-"

"It's the truth!" she's almost hysterical now, eyes wild, it's a long time since he's seen her this way, "do you think I want to believe it? Do you know how long it's taken me to come to terms with this? I think about it all the time. How much easier our lives would be if we'd never even met. If I hadn't taken that job at the DA's office, if I hadn't moved to your desk, if I hadn't followed you here, if I hadn't allowed myself to fa-" she stops short, biting back the words she almost let slip.

"Allowed yourself to what?" he whispers, approach her slowly.

"It's beside the point-" she tries to turn away, intimidated by the direction this conversation was very clearly headed.

"No," he grabs her wrist, they can't run from it this time, "say it."

She looks up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes full of tears, he hears her take a shaky breath, "If I hadn't," she swallows, "if I hadn't allowed myself to fall for you."

His lips part, but he doesn't say a word, sensing there's more to come.

"Do you know, how much sleep I've lost over you, how hard I've tried to let you go, but I just can't. I push it down, hide it, crush the feelings, but they don't go away, ever. And what makes it even harder is-" she closes her eyes, silent tears drifting down her cheeks, "is that you were never mine to hold on to in the first place."

He feels tears welling up in his own eyes, opening his mouth to tell her that he feels the same, that they've both suffered the same plight at the hands of each other, that he knows the cure, but all that comes out is, "Donna,"

"I can't do it anymore Harvey," she admits, masking a sniffle, "these past few weeks, ever since… we kissed… I haven't been able to shake you, I can't function, I can't think, I can't sleep, I can barely breathe."

"You think I don't know that?" he answers through gritted teeth, "You think I haven't been living the same way since that night?"

He pauses, afraid to know the truth but longing for answers, "You said you didn't feel anything…" he mumbles.

"You said you didn't want more." She replies.

"I lied." Their gaze meets, eyes wide as they take in their shared confession, uttering those fatal words in unison, both unsure what to say next, but it's his turn to talk.

"We cause each other all this pain," he begins, noticing how her defences slowly begin to build back up, "not because we're bad for each other, but because we're both terrified to face the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

He steps toward her, closing the gap between them, so close he can feel her breath on his neck, "The truth," he sighs, "is that I love you Donna, and I don't want you to let me go, I want to be yours to hold on to. I always have been."

Before she can answer, his lips come crashing down on hers, electricity sparks between their bodies, igniting their veins as they cling onto each other for dear life. It feels as though they'd been living their life on a tightrope, constantly unsteady, afraid to fall, but in one another's arms they've found safety, fear drained from their minds, all they saw was each other.

When they finally found the strength to pull away, both still held on to the other, faces flushed with adrenaline, eyes sparkling.

"Harvey," she began, lost for words, but then again only one response came to mind, "I love you too."

"I'm yours," he reassured her, gripping her shoulders firmly, "do you hear me? I'm yours."

"And I'm yours." She nodded, placing a hand on his chest to steady herself, surprised her legs hadn't given out completely.

"No more hurt." He promised.

"No more lies." She agreed.

He leaned in again, placing a kiss on her forehead, before pulling her close, Donna's head coming to rest against his heart beat, as he buried his face in her hair.

"Harvey?" she mumbled.

"Yes?" he leaned back, brushing the hair from her face.

"Take me home." She smirked.

"My pleasure." And for the first time in a long time, she saw that Cheshire cat grin she had missed so much.

In the early hours of the next morning, wrapped up in each other's embrace, they watched the snowfall over New York City, feeling almost as if they were in a snow globe, surrounded by glass in Harvey's spacious bedroom. It was the same view they had both pondered earlier that night, but now, it held a newfound beauty, and as they watched the sun begin to rise over the skyline, they couldn't help but feel it held the promise of a new beginning on the horizon.

"Merry Christmas Harvey." She sighed, snuggling further into him.

"Merry Christmas Donna." He breathed, and with a kiss to her temple, they both drifted off into the most peaceful sleep they'd had in years.

XXX

 **This idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile, especially since there's speculation that Donna will have a visit with Dr Lipshitz!**

 **But really though, I wanted to delve a little further into Donna's subconscious, and her own internal monologue, we don't see enough of her emotional side, so that's mostly what this fic was for.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed this story, please please please let me know your thoughts in the review section!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Jess xx**


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